Nympho Summers and William Pratt
Spike woke up to the sound of tapping at his window. He blinked a few times, grunting into his pillow. Glancing at the alarm clock he noticed it wasn’t even six a.m. yet and this was incredibly unfair. Since getting married and adopting a daughter Spike had pretty much had to conform to human sleeping patterns and he’d never really gone back. So, as un-vampire as it was, he tended to sleep during the night and wake in the morning.
All of this meant that getting woken up at such an unholy hour tended to make him fairly grumpy. He sat up slowly and then slung his legs out of bed and stood, padding to the window with reluctance. He didn’t know what or whom he was expecting to see but a blonde Slayer waving hesitantly at him while looking vaguely awkward wasn’t the first thing on his list.
Spike frowned and slid the window open, the chill hair hitting him. “Buffy? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the beginning of a sunrise. “I just…thought I’d stop by. See if you wanted to hang.”
His frown deepened and he folded his arms. “It’s five in the morning, Buffy.”
She turned back and offered him an apprehensive smile, speaking with a hushed voice. “I know, I’m sorry. This was stupid.”
Spike looked her over for a moment. Her hair was tied up haphazardly, she didn’t have a scrap of makeup on, and her clothes were loose and comfortable – Spike couldn’t stop the appreciative smile that found its way to his face. Buffy shifted from foot to foot awkwardly and he couldn’t let her just stand there for a moment longer. It was cold. He was a gentleman. This was the reason he held his hand out to her.
Buffy paused for a moment then stepped up to the window and took his hand, using it to anchor herself through the opening, and landing silently on the floor of his bedroom. Spike let go of her hand and closed the window quietly behind her, when he turned back Buffy was standing in the middle of the room arms folded across herself and eyes darting around the room inquisitively.
“So, what’s this about then?” He sat down on his bed, clearing his throat.
“Uh, well, I was talking to Faith…” Buffy started self-consciously.
Spike arched an eyebrow and leaned back on his hands. “Right. Am I goin’ to like where this is going?”
She did smile then, looking down at her feet. “Well, that depends.”
“On whether you’re still interested.”
“Interested in what?”
Buffy took a breath and crossed the room to stand in front of him. “In me. In this.”
She reached across taking his face in her hands before leaning down and kissing him softly. Spike’s eyes closed instinctively and he sat upright, sliding his arms around her thin waist. Buffy pushed him backward gently, pressing his back down onto the mattress as she climbed atop him in the next moment.
Spike’s mind exploded with memories and thoughts and feelings and the sheer amazement that this was even happening, that this could happen thirty years after Buffy had disappeared, after he had thought he had lost her forever. She felt just how he remembered she had; her hair was just as soft, her scent just as intoxicating, and her skin just as warm and smooth as he had remembered.
When she had kissed him earlier that night he had managed to pull away but he worried that he didn’t have the same strength to do it twice.
She straddled his waist and let her hands slide up inside his T-shirt, fingers tracing his abdomen teasingly. Spike groaned softly, hands gripping her hips, as he tried to form a rational thought.
All he did manage to think was that this is so unfair. How did Buffy expect him to be the honourable gentleman he usually was when she came to his window in the middle of the night and then proceeded to climb on top of him and kiss him senseless? He was supposed to be trying to take this slowly. He had Mya to think of, not to mention his own heart to protect, but this was bypassing his heart and his mind and going straight to another favourite part of his. It had been a long while since he’d been with anyone and this was Buffy.
It was Buffy, for Christ’s sake.
He was a good man but there was only so much that he could say no to before his primal brain got the better of him.
Spike dug his fingers into Buffy’s hips and forced himself to pull away, looking up at her as she hesitated above him uncertainly. “Bloody hell, good morning to you too.”
“Sorry,” she breathed quietly. “Sorry if I’m being pushy. If you don’t want this, I’ll go. I’ll –”
“Buffy. I want this,” He interjected, taking her hand in his. “But what’s the hurry suddenly? I’m not complaining I just get the feeling you’re in a rush. I want to know why.”
She sat upright, looking down at him. “It’s been thirty years for you, isn’t that long enough?”
“You’re not telling me the whole truth here.”
Buffy said nothing for a moment before she took a breath and spoke, “I just don’t want to… I might not get another chance. I mean, I’ve heard good things about conjugal visits but –”
“Buffy,” Spike scowled, sitting up abruptly enough that he had to steady her; putting his arms around her waist lest she fall backwards. “You’re not going to prison.”
“Spike, we don’t –”
“I won’t hear another thing about that.”
Buffy sighed and peered into his eyes wearily. “Fine. Does this mean you want me to go?”
“No,” he shook his head, looking back at her. “I just want to do this properly this time around. Once you’re cleared, then we’ll…we’ll work this out. We can talk about this. About what we’re doing here. After.”
Buffy smiled wryly, tilted her head. “In America, we call it sex.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Is that all you want from me? I’m not a piece of meat, Slayer. I’m hurt.”
She ran her hand down his arm. “You knew what you were getting into. You flipped the Nympho switch, remember. All your fault.”
“Me?” Spike laughed. “I’m to take the credit for that, am I?”
“Oh come on, Spike.” Buffy leaned back to get a clearer view of his whole face. “I was pretty damn vanilla before you.”
His laugh continued and she joined in after a few moments and Spike couldn’t help but feel that this was right. Here he was in bed with Buffy in his arms and she had a smile on her face and all was right with the world. Surely, this was what he was meant for? Surely, this was everything he wanted? To get a second chance with Buffy, to have her want him back; that was important. That was more than important.
Buffy’s laughter trailed off and she spoke quietly, “You corrupted me. It’s only fair you deal with the consequences.”
“Oi, you taught me a thing or two,” he pointed at her. “And that’s sayin’ something.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, William.” She kissed him quickly on the tip of his nose and then climbed off of him taking her warmth with her.
Spike watched her as she stood up and brushed the wrinkles from her clothes, he gazed at her in what he guessed probably looked like mild awe. In the midst of her tidying Buffy caught his look and frowned.
“What?” She said, touching her hair self-consciously.
“You called me William,” he noted, sitting up fully.
Buffy shrugged with one shoulder, spoke nonchalantly, “It’s your name.”
“Nevermind.” He cleared his throat, scratched the back of his head. “Where’re you goin’?”
“You said you didn’t want –”
“Stay here. Sleep.” Spike reached out and took her hand. “You need some rest. I know I sodding do.”
Buffy entwined their fingers. “Mya?”
“Doesn’t come in here unannounced. Much.” He smiled. “So, let’s sleep. And then I’ll make you breakfast – you need some fattening up.”
She rolled her eyes. “Mmm, nap and breakfast. Domestic Spike is the dream man. You should have your own action figure.”
Spike pulled her into bed as her eyes flashed with gullible disbelief.
+ + +
Buffy sat at her table next to Norman and realised that she had become strangely accustomed to being there. This was her place in the courtroom. This was where she belonged in this space and this time. And soon enough, one way or another, she wouldn’t be here any longer. She’d either be locked up, dead, or free. She knew which one she’d prefer but even so it was going to feel a little odd not to have to come here. This trial had been hanging over her head for such a long time that she was almost scared for it to come to an end. It was probably the conclusion that she was dreading but some small part of her told her that she’d miss the familiarity of the courtroom, of Norman, of Heaton, even of Lucy and that…well, that was incredibly weird.
Especially since Lucy Porter was currently shovelling her name with crap.
“Buffy Summers is many things. To those who know nothing of her she seems harmless enough. She’s pretty, she’s blonde, she’s just a girl. We know different. She is a Slayer. While it must be said that Slayers are generally an asset to society, we all know the consequences when one goes rogue. It’s happened before with devastating results. Now, it’s happened again. When Buffy Summers murdered Joseph Dawson he was defenceless. He was playing with his seven year old daughter; he didn’t see the attack coming. He had no opportunity to ward off the blow. And it only took one blow. Buffy Summers decapitated this man and she didn’t even break a sweat.”
Lucy paced up and down the courtroom. This was her closing statement, so Buffy had prepared herself that it would be hard-hitting and not something she was going to enjoy hearing. Spike had warned her that Lucy would pull no punches and it seemed he was right. Buffy didn’t blame her exactly, she was just doing her job and from Lucy’s perspective Buffy was a cold blooded killer. In other words, Lucy was a good guy. In another situation Buffy would have supported her, would have backed her right up. But this was also the woman who was trying to take her life away. And that? That she couldn’t really support her in. Call her crazy.
“Granted, this probably shouldn’t come as a surprise to us. This Slayer was, after all, mentored by Rupert Giles. Rupert Giles. We all know of his immense hatred and his desire for humanoid genocide. To be mentored through your most impressionable years by a man like this? Well, it was almost inevitable that this would happen. Add to this her associations with Angelus and Riley Finn, both well-known for their crimes against Humanoids, and you have a very potent environment of hatred and prejudice.”
Buffy let her eyes stray to Heaton at the end of the table. His eyes were all for Lucy, his hands tented up in front of him and his face unreadable. She’d said it before to Spike but he really was a blank slate. Buffy guessed it meant she had a fifty fifty chance but it was also sort of disconcerting. She wondered what he was like outside of the courtroom – was he charming, was he funny, was he kind? Buffy didn’t know and probably never would. She supposed that was the point. Maybe it was easier for him if people didn’t seem him as a human but just a judge.
“So, what I suppose is the main crux of my closing statement is this – Buffy Summers is a Slayer. She used her Slayer strength to kill an innocent man. This she cannot dispute. Her opinion that she disappeared from this ‘dimension’ for thirty years, even if true, does not detract from the fact that a man lost his life in a brutal, unbearable way. His daughter Jane Dawson will certainly never forget that. And neither should we. Buffy Summers is not just a Slayer, she is a killer.”
The whole statement had probably taken no longer than ten minutes but to Buffy it had felt a hell of a lot longer. The audience in the courtroom had remained steely and silent throughout and even now as Lucy nodded her head at Heaton and took her seat the silence remained. It was a heavy silence and one that made Buffy feel deeply scrutinised.
Heaton cleared his throat eventually. “Thank you, Ms. Porter. Mr. Wagner, are you ready for you closing statement?”
“Well, sir.” Norman stood up, fiddling with the button on his jacket. “We are, however it will not be I who will be addressing yourself and the courtroom.”
Buffy had mulled over this decision several times. It had not been an easy decision, far from it. In the end she had been convinced to do it by Spike. He hadn’t actually said anything, hadn’t consciously done anything to sway her mind but he’d looked at her that morning with such faith and admiration that she decided she had to do this. Not for him, not for any of them. For herself. If she lost this trial, then it had to be off her own back. Sure, the closing statements weren’t the be-all-and-end-all but they were the lasting impressions. If she choked now then at least she knew it was her own fault. If she won? Well, then maybe Spike was right to look at her like that; to love her. Maybe she’d deserve to be free.
Heaton sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Then who, pray tell, will be gracing us with their speech?”
“Buffy,” Norman placed his hand on her shoulder. “Buffy Summers, sir.”
If you are under the age of 17, please use your head and do not read fics that are labeled "NC-17". Parents, I cannot control what your children are reading, so please be advised that the majority of the fics archived here are NOT suitable for those under the age of 17.
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I am in no way making any profit from this site. This is for pure entertainment purposes only.
Concept: (c)bringonthebloodshed.com (2004), Code & Design: (c)Diabola (2006), Graphics: Selene & Always